


nepenthe

by sanzuh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Braavos, Drabble, F/M, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, but jonsa don't know about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: Written for the Jonsa New Year Drabble Event, Day 1: DreamsNepenthe /nɪˈpɛnθiː/ (Ancient Greek: νηπενθές, nēpenthés) is a fictional medicine for sorrow – a "drug of forgetfulness", "that which chases away sorrow"
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 74
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	nepenthe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charmtion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmtion/gifts).



Jon snuffs out the candle on the side table next to their bed and Sansa smiles into her pillow. She should feel guilty about that indulgent moment of satisfaction. Jon needs the dark to be able to bear his shame over what they're about to do. But then again, he could stay away from their shared bed until sleep has taken her, or he could keep the candle burning just a little while longer. The fact that he doesn't, that he lets the darkness take over as soon as he's joined her, tells her he wants this as much as she does, even though he'll never be the one to make the first move. 

"I really enjoyed that stew you made today," she tells him. She loves how the rumble of his voice warms her to her core and makes her skin tingle. She wants to hear it before she starts this dance.

She can feel his shrug in the shift of the covers. "It was good because that gown you made for Bellegere Otherys brought in enough coin to buy meat."

"Still," she insists, "even with the meat, a lesser cook might have botched it."

"I reckon I'll check if the sea lord is hiring then," he quips. "Perhaps he'll be more delighted by my stews than by my prowess with the sword."

When she laughs, he joins in, and the deep vibrations of it set her veins alight.

She turns around and shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders of its own accord when her breasts meet his hard chest, and she presses her lips to the hollow of his throat, dragging them over the warm skin there. Her hand slips down, disappearing under the long tunic he wears to bed, lightly brushing his thighs as she moves up until her fingers are dancing across the hard planes of his stomach. 

"Sansa," he whispers roughly, and she swallows his groan with a kiss when her fingers curl around his hardening length. 

He kisses her back hungrily, his mouth ready to devour hers and every other inch of her skin it can reach, and then he's pushing her back, until his solid, warm weight is pressing her into the mattress, and soon, his lips are travelling a familiar path down her stomach. 

Her fingers find their trusted place in the tangle of his curls, and then his mouth reaches its destination at the juncture of her thighs. At the first swipe of his tongue, she whimpers his name, and their shared groan of relief seems to rise out of their very bones. 

Neither of them could have expected this to happen when they decided to run away to Braavos after finding each other again at Castle Black. They both know that it's wrong, but it feels right. Jon is the last piece of home she has left. And when she falls asleep in his arms after he's made her come apart and he's sighed her name into her skin as he finds his own release, the nightmares never come.

Instead, she dreams of Winterfell, of something that is lost to her forever, and she believes it must be the same for Jon. Even though he won't be able to look at her in the morning, by nightfall, he'll join her under the sheets again and he'll snuff out that candle, inviting her to come to him. As long as he asks it of her, she'll answer, so they'll carry on like this, pursuing the bliss that chases away their sorrow, until they've both healed enough to let go, or until his guilt grows too tremendous to overcome.


End file.
